Hello, My Name Is Fatherhood
by Daisy Miller
Summary: It felt like someone barged into his house, waving a name tag in his face that said: Hello, my name is Fatherhood. Nice to meet you. [Fremione]
1. F

**A/N: **This is actually a re-write of an older story. The first few chapters will be mostly the same, but the end will change dramatically.All comments are appreciated!

"Hello, My Name Is Fatherhood"

Chapter One: F

It happened so fast that all one could hear was a shout and the sound of screeching tires. The driver didn't stay long (the prat!) and left the woman lying in the road, bleeding rather profusely. A man (a wizard to be more exact) ran up, and checked her pulse. She was still alive, but just barely. Her children– twins he noticed–were standing on the sidewalk, staring at their mother, not sure whether to cry or blink their eyes trying to wake up from what must be a very bad dream.

Then the man noticed a wooden stick pointing out of her sleeve, and he knew that she was a witch. He quickly looked around, and cast a spell that would divert the attention of any Muggle passerby. He grabbed onto the children and the woman, and he apparated to St. Mungo's.

* * *

"Can you tell us your mother's name?" asked one of the nurses. 

Isabel Granger, the oldest by twenty-two seconds, nodded her head. "Hermione Granger," she said, proud that her voice did not waver.

"Is she all right?" asked Anna Granger.

The nurse nodded her head absentmindedly. "Now, can you tell us your father's name?"

"Er . . ." said Anna. "I . . . ." She looked to Isabel.

Isabel shrugged.

The nurse nodded, and searched through the birth certificates until she came upon the Granger twins. "Frederick Weasley," she said. "We'll contact him right away."

* * *

Fred was in _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_, when an owl flew in through the open door and landed in front of him. Hearing the owl screech impatiently, George walked out of the back storage closet, curious to see what all the fuss was about. 

"Who's the owl from?" he asked.

Fred looked at the envelope. "St. Mungo's" he said, worriedly. He opened it and scanned the letter inside.

"It's Ron, isn't it?" asked George. "He fell off his broom again."

"No," said Fred, his eyebrows pinching together.

"It's Charlie. One too many burns?"

"No," he said, shaking his head.

"Bill?"

He shook his head again.

"Well, then who is it?"

"Hermione."

"Oh," said George, looking around the store. There was a group of young children, giggling over in the corner and a older couple, looking for a birthday present for their son. "Right," said George, loudly. "There's been an accident in the back room. At the moment, there is a highly contagious, deadly, and explosive cauldron of Ton-Tongue Toffees gone wrong. You need to leave the premises in a calm but timely manner before it explodes and . . . ."

"Well, that worked rather well," said Fred, looking at the empty store.

"And I had a bit more to go too . . ."

* * *

The clock ticked by and it felt like ages before they heard the someone walking down the hallway. Isabel and Anna watched as Fred and his twin, George, came their way. Their mother was always tight-lipped about their father, but one of the things she did divulge was that he had a twin. They stood up straight with perfect posture, awaiting their arrival . . . only to be ignored. 

Fred and George walked straight to the nurse's desk, and asked if they could see Hermione.

"Sorry," said the nurse with a flirtatious smile, her eyes flicking between Fred and George. "The Healer is in with her at the moment. But if you just wait with your daughters, you'll be able to see her in a moment."

This last sentence caught Fred and George off guard, but the nurse had already turned her attention to something else and was ignoring their stunned faces.

George was the one who looked around and spotted the two girls behind them. He nudged Fred's arm and inclined his head in their direction..

Fred nearly choked.

They stood there, with their fiery curly hair and their Hermione-like posture, and stared at Fred with feigned bravery. They had to be no older than nine years old. Fred sank down into the nearest chair trying to grasp the concept that he had daughters. "Fred" and "daughters" are two words that don't belong in the same sentence unless separated by "doesn't have."

Isabel was the first one to speak. "Hello, Mr. Weasley," she said formally.

Fred looked up, noting that they had Hermione's eyes. "Hello," he said, his voice strangely thin; he felt like he had eaten a Ton-Tongue Toffee gone wrong.

"I'm Isabel Granger, and this is my sister, Anna."

"Hello Isabel, Anna," he said, a hint of panic in his eyes.

"We don't why you left her," said Anna, "and maybe one day one of you will tell us, but until then, you're an arsehole."

"Ah, yes that he is," said George. He held out his hand. "I'm George, the better looking twin."

"Is that your pick-up line?" asked Isabel.

"Because it's terrible," finished Anna.

George frowned and scratched the back of his head. "I know, I've been meaning to work on that."

Isabel smiled. "You're nice. Why didn't she fall for you?"

George laughed. "Probably because I'm not the one who handcuffed myself to her and then lost the key."

The nurse walked over to them. "Your mother is still unconscious, but if you'd like to see her, you can," she said.

Isabel nodded, and began to follow the nurse. Anna opened her mouth to say something to Fred, but she quickly changed her mind and ran to catch up with her sister.

After the nurse left Isabel and Anna with their mother, Anna said, "Do you think he'll let us stay with him?"

Isabel shrugged, her eyes roaming over her mother's face, looking for something she recognized. Her nose looked the same and her lips looked the same and her eyes looked the same (although they were closed), but her skin was white and there were a few scratches across her cheeks.

There was a bottle of Skele-Gro on the bedside table, and Isabel and Anna knew their mother was going to be fine: it was nothing a little magic couldn't fix. The only question was how long it would take to fix.

"He has to," she said finally. "He's our father."

_(tbc)_


	2. A

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. All of your comments are appreciated! Just to let you know, I've only read through this chapter a few times, so I might have missed some mistakes. If you find any, please let me know!_

"Hello, My Name Is Fatherhood**"**

Chapter Two: A

Fred entered the room a few minutes later and stood beside Hermione's bed, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He swallowed, feeling like he should say something optimistic, something that would make Anna and Isabel feel better. He should comfort them, because that's what fathers do.

"She'll be fine," he said, uncomfortably.

"We know," said Isabel. "But . . . ." She looked uncertainly at her sister and then at George lingering in the doorway. "It's . . . when will she wake up?"

"When the Skele-Gro is done working," said George. "The nurse said she should be ready to go home tomorrow."

"Right," said Anna, "so that means we'll need somewhere to stay for the night."

Anna and Isabel looked expectantly at Fred. Fred looked expectantly at George

"You can stay with us," said George, a small smile on his face. "We'll have to stop by the Burrow first." Fred's eyes widened in panic, but George continued. "The Burrow is the house we grew up in. Every Friday we stop by and have dinner."

"So, we'll get to meet family?" asked Isabel excitedly.

George nodded. "Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Ron and Harry and Aunt Ginny, and I think maybe Uncle Charlie."

The girls looked towards their father, noticing a slightly frightened look on his face. He tried to smile. "Mum will be happy. She likes getting new grandchildren."

* * *

Mrs. Weasley did indeed like getting new grandchildren, but she much preferred to have nine months to get used to the idea. "I can't believe you . . . ." she said, shutting the kitchen door behind her. 

"Can't believe I what?" said Fred, sitting down at the kitchen table tiredly. He ran his hand through his hair and looked up at his mother.

"I think we need to talk about Hermione. And don't look at me like that Fred! Its about time you discuss what happened between you two. It's been nine years since we've heard from her. Nine years! That's nine years she's had to raise those two girls all by herself. The poor girl!"

"It's her own fault she had to raise them by herself!" he said, standing up. "It's not like she told me about them before she left. I didn't know she was pregnant. She didn't tell me anything. Just said she couldn't be with me anymore and she left!"

Mrs. Weasley put her hand on Fred's shoulder. "You must frightened, dear. After all you weren't expecting to become a father so soon. But, Fred, you _are_ a father. And it's up to you to take care of them."

"But I can't!"

"Nonsense," she said, "You'll make a wonderful father."

He scoffed in disbelief, but his mother only gave him a quick hug and pushed him out of the kitchen. Fred looked vaguely around the room. George was eating and talking to Charlie. His father was asking Anna about a weird muggle contraption ("Now, can you tell me the function of _this_?") , while Isabel was questioning Ron and Harry about her mother and their adventures at Hogwarts ("She once mentioned something about a three-headed dog . . .").

Fred sat down on the sofa, across from Isabel and a few feet away from Anna. Unsure of what to say, he remained silent and simply watched _his daughters _as they interacted with his family–_their_ family. They were both smart and inquisitive, polite and proper. Their hair was red and bushy and their eyes were a dark brown. Freckles lined their noses (noses that looked like Hermione's). But a quirky sense of humor was discernable under their polite answers and questions; they would laugh at jokes that would make Hermione sigh and shake her head sadly. They even recounted a few of their own exploits in mischievous acts.

Fred was highly impressed and a small smile appeared on his face. But then, suddenly Anna was sitting next to him and Isabel was standing in front of him and reality plopped itself into his lap.

He had to take care of them. They were his _responsibility_.

Responsibility is a scary word, and not just because it had six syllables. It meant: he wasn't his own person anymore. While George had always been with him, George could (more-or-less) take care of himself. But nine-year old girls didn't take care of themselves. He had to make sure they didn't hurt themselves, he had to get them to bed at the right time, had to make sure they were fed–had to make sure they were fed _nutritional_ food and not just candy . . . .

Anna smiled lopsidedly. "We have everything planned out."

"We can stop by our home to get some things for the night. And then in the morning, you can take us to go see how Mum is doing."

"If that's all right with you."

Fred nodded. "Yeah, that's fine."

* * *

"Should have guessed," he said, looking around the room. Everything was neat and organized, clean and dusted. The wood furniture shone brilliantly and the walls were lined with bookshelves, sparkling with leather-bound books. 

"Mum says that knowledge is very important," said Isabel.

"It is," said Fred, sitting down on the sofa and propping his feet up on the coffee table.

"She also says that we shouldn't put on our feet up on the table."

He nodded and removed his feet from the table. "Why don't you go get your things. I'll wait here."

Anna smiled slyly. "Mum's room is the first door on the left."

Fred shrugged as if he didn't care, but, as soon as Anna and Isabel were in their rooms, he tip-toed towards the door Anna had mentioned.

Hermione's bedroom was similar to the living room: neat and tidy and filled with books. The walls were stark white and he had the impression that she had just recently moved in. There were a few pictures on the wall, one of Hermione's parents and a few of Anna and Isabel. He sat down on the bed, his eyes drawn to the bedside table. An open book lay on the table, her glasses sitting next to it. Curious, he opened the drawer and found a notebook, a few random snapshots of a vacation to Paris, a scrapbook, and a letter. The letter was addressed to him and he held it between his fingers.

If Hermione was there, she would tell him he was above snooping through her private things. He knew, however, that he really wasn't.

The letter, he assumed, was a good thing. It meant that she was thinking of him, and he slipped the thin paper out of the envelope . . . .

"We're ready!" they called from the living room.

He jumped up, thrusting the letter back in the drawer. "Right, coming."

"Did you find the letter?" asked Isabel, when he reentered the living room. "She wrote it when we first moved in here, but she never mailed it."

"Should you know that?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, but what Mum doesn't know, won't hurt her."

He smiled and ruffled her hair. "Come on, let's get out of here. Go get some ice-cream."

"Can we get five scoops?"they asked excitedly.

"Of course!"

* * *

Later that night, filled ice-cream and sugar and feeling sleepy, Fred led Anna and Isabel inside his flat above the store. George was still up, stooped over a bubbling cauldron. He was working on a new product, but when Fred and his daughters entered, he removed the heating charm and let the potion cool. 

"I set up the spare bedroom for them," he said.

"We have a spare bedroom?"

While the girls got ready for bed, Fred told George about the letter and what Isabel had told him.

"You think she was going to tell you?"

"Yeah, I think. I just . . .why did she leave? She must have known she was pregnant."

"Maybe that was the why she left . . . ." said George.

Fred was about to reply, when Anna and Isabel came out of the spare room to tell them goodnight. They both hugged George around the waist.

"'Night Anna, Isabel," he said.

When they came to Fred, he instinctively kneeled down to their level. They hugged him at the same time, Anna on his left and Isabel on the right. Anna hesitantly gave him a kiss on his cheek.

He smiled lopsidedly (the same smile Anna had given him earlier), and said "Good night."

They made their way down the hallway and into their bedroom, shutting the door behind them. George sighed tiredly and placed his hand on Fred's shoulder.

"Good night, Fred."

"'Night, George," he replied.

* * *

The clock on his bedside table read 1:30. "What is it? Are you okay?" asked Fred, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. 

Anna and Isabel hovered in the doorway hesitantly. "Sorry to bother you," said Isabel.

"It's just, we keep having nightmares, about Mum."

Fred nodded knowingly. "Come on," he said, beckoning them closer and patting the space on either side of him.

They jumped up on the bed and settled under the blankets.

"Everything will be fine," he said sleepily, putting his arms around them. "We'll see your mum tomorrow and she'll be awake and smiling . . . and things can . . . go back . . . to . . . ." His voice drifted off as his eyelids closed.

Anna and Isabel fell asleep, wondering if things would go back to normal tomorrow–wondering if this would be the last time they would see their father.

_(tbc)_


	3. M

_A/N: After some planning and minor plot changes, I now know how this story is going to go from here (before, I was just kind of following the original plot, but I think this one will flow nicer). There's going to be three more chapters after this one; the fourth should be up sometime next week. Sorry for the wait, and I hope you enjoy!  
_

"Hello, My Name Is Fatherhood"

Chapter Three: M

Fred woke up when his face collided with the floor. Lifting himself up, he surveyed the bed and promptly found the reason he had unexpectedly fallen out of it.

He was kicked out. Literally.

Anna's leg was pushed out, her foot nearly hanging off the bed. Next to her, in the middle of the bed, Isabel was sleeping on her stomach, her arms tucked in close to her. Fred sighed and sleepily stumbled into the kitchen to fix himself a cup of coffee.

As he sat at the kitchen table, a warm mug in his hands, he thought about the past 24 hours and how, surprisingly, he wasn't freaking out. He had been a little scared to begin with, when he was standing in St. Mungo's staring at two pairs of familiar brown eyes. But now, as he thought about his daughters, he felt quite nice and mature.

Of course, it helped that the girls had Hermione's sensibility, as well as her inherent need to be in control.

It was almost as if there had been someone knocking very quietly on his door for the past eight years and now that he had opened it, a man had sauntered in with a nametag that said "Hello, my name is Fatherhood." And Fatherhood had settled himself into Fred's couch and Fred didn't seem to mind if Fatherhood stayed for a while. Even if Fatherhood stained his new dragon-skin jacket, Fatherhood could stay for as long as he liked.

However, there was always Motherhood. She could get in the way of things.

What if Hermione didn't want Fred back in her life? What if she woke up, took her daughters and left, like she did before?

_I'll just find them_, he thought. _I won't make the same mistake I did last time._

His thoughts were interrupted by George making his way to the coffee pot and saying, "So, you finally got to share that bed with two females at the same time, uh?"

"It's more than you can say."

George sat down next to his brother. "Hermione'd be proud of you," he mumbled, taking a sip of coffee. When presented with a doubtful look from Fred, George continued. "You're not panicking. You didn't lose them or get them hurt. You took care of them."

Fred shrugged. "They take care of themselves."

"Children don't just take care of themselves."

"Yeah," said Fred with a smile, "but these are _Hermione's_ children."

"Good point. But they're yours too. I'm surprised they haven't turned you into a canary."

"They tried."

"Really?"

"Yep. Last night, after they found the stash in the closet." Fred sat up straight with pride. "But they don't call me a Master Prankster for nothing. I was ready for them." He took a large sip of his coffee, and promptly turned into a canary.

There was an eruption of giggles from the hallway, and Anna and Isabel stumbled into view, clutching their stomachs in mirth.

George laughed too, and after a few seconds of squawking, Fred joined in.

When the humor of the situation died down, George offered the girls breakfast and they quickly requested pancakes.

"With chocolate chips," said Fred. "Oh, and some eggs too. Maybe some bacon, if you feel like it."

"Of course, _dear_," said George sarcastically. "Would you like some fresh-squeezed orange juice with that?"

Fred ignored him, his attention focused on the owl sitting on their window sill. He rushed over and quickly opened the letter from the proffered leg.

"It's from St. Mungo's," he said, reading the letter. "Hermione's awake."

* * *

"Eh, why don't you two go in first," said Fred, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

"But . . ." started Anna, but she stopped when Isabel shook her head. They held hands as they entered the room and Fred watched the door shut behind them.

"I don't think I should go in, George."

"You're afraid she's going to get mad or something."

"Yeah."

"Fred."

Fred turned and sighed. "I know. I need to talk to her, but I'll just wait for a few minutes . . . or years."

"It's been nine years all ready," pointed out George. "Why didn't you go after her?"

It was the question the entire family had been wanting to know the answer to, but, until now, no one had dared ask it.

"She told me she didn't love me."

"And you think she meant it?"

"It's Hermione, George!" said Fred, "You think she would say something like that and not mean it?"

George shrugged. Hermione wasn't mean, but she was honest and he knew that. She didn't throw casual phrases out of her mouth and hope that they had some desired effect; she chose her words carefully, knowing which ones would have a maximum impact.

"Maybe there was another reason? Maybe you said something . . ."

"What makes you think it was my fault?"

"It's always your fault."

Fred pretended to be outraged by such an accusation, but his shoulders quickly slumped in defeat. "It probably is my fault."

Anna and Isabel skipped happily out of Hermione's room a few minutes later.

"How is she?"asked Fred. "Does she look ok? Is she happy?"

"Mum wants to talk to you," they said to Fred, and although they were both trying to hide their smiles, Isabel was the only one who was doing a good job of it.

"Well that's got to be a good sign," he said, poking Anna's cheek. He nodded. "Right, so, er, I'll, uh, be right back."

He stepped towards the doorway and then stopped. A second later, George's hand shoved him forward, and he stumbled into Hermione's room.

_(tbc)_


	4. I

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who took the time to review. basketballstarhottie asked if that chapters were going to spell "family" at the end, and yes, they will. Which means that there's two more chapters left, and I plan to finished this (as well as my other WIP, Hands) before the seventh book comes out. _

_I hope you enjoy this chapter (and I haven't read through it as thoroughly as I usually do, so if you find any mistakes, let me know!). _

"Hello, My Name Is Fatherhood"

Chapter Four: I

Hermione sat in the middle of the bed, the sheets placed over her legs, her hands folded in her lap. She smiled slightly, as he stumbled in, but then her face turned serious and Fred began to worry.

"You look good," he said, hoping a compliment might help ease the tension.

It didn't.

He walked over to her and tried to smile charmingly. Opening his mouth, he started to apologize.

"I'm sorry," said Hermione.

This left Fred standing next to her with his mouth hanging open, his own apology stuck in his throat.

"You don't have to look so shocked," said Hermione with a short laugh.

Merlin, he missed her laugh.

"I, er, I was going to say the same thing."

Whatever humor was in her face disappeared, replaced with guilt. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Fred. I'm the one who made the mistake."

"Getting hit by a car _is_ a pretty big mistake."

"Fred, this isn't a joke."

"I know."

"I'm sorry for leaving." She averted her eyes, preferring to examine her hands, rather than Fred's confused look. "I should have told you. I shouldn't have left without telling you that I was pregnant, and I shouldn't have left at all, really. I should have talked to you. They're your children too, and it was wrong and selfish of me to keep them away."

Fred opened his mouth to say something, to comfort her, tell her that it was ok, because any sane woman would run if she found out she was carrying his offspring. But, somehow, he didn't think that would be the right thing to say. "Why'd you leave?"

"I was scared." She looked up at him, and he saw tears forming in her eyes. She sniffled. "I was scared that you wouldn't want children yet; I was scared that you wouldn't be able to handle it. You were twenty-five and still playing pranks on your little brother. I thought . . . ."

"It's ok," he said, reaching out to touch her hand.

She shook her head. "No it's not. I was embarrassed. We weren't even engaged, and I was pregnant. Our one time and I got pregnant."

"Well," said Fred, his innate ability to be clever (or a prat, however you look at it) refusing to be squashed any longer, "I guess I'm just too good for a contraception charm, eh?"

He watched her face cautiously. It was serious, her mouth straight, but then something inside of her let go and she smiled. "Still, it was wrong for me to handle it like I did."

"It's ok, really. I understand." He wanted to say that it was okay because there really wasn't a book for those kind of things, but he didn't think he should push his luck.

"The girls are really fond of you," she said. "And if you want to spend more time with them it can be arranged."

Fred shrugged. "I'd like that, but, you know, I'd really like to get to know their mother, too. I mean, anyone who could raise such wonderful children, must be . . . ."

Before he could finish, she leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek. His skin burned with her touch and he remembered exactly why he had fallen in love with her. She made him feel good. She made him a better person. And, thinking on the past nine years, he was probably going to be a better father now that he had had to deal with the loss of his one and only love. He was older and maturer. The loss of Hermione had been slap from reality; he had to grow up, realize that life wasn't only about joking.

He had to realize that he loved her more passionately than he did his joke shop.

"Are you crying?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Don't cry." He wiped her tears away with a small laugh and sat down next to her on the bed. "I love you, Hermione."

His face, she noted, was the same, but he was older (as was she). There was maturity in his eyes and movements, and she figured that it had probably always been there; it only needed nine years to come out.

"I love you too, Fred, and I'm sor–"

He cut her off by placing a kiss on her lips. "I missed that," he whispered.

"I missed . . . it . . . too."

As she spoke, Hermione's gaze had shifted to the doorway behind him, and he turned to see what she was looking at.

A piece of flesh-colored string peeked around the doorway.

_Spies._

* * *

George, Anna, and Isabel were crouched on the other side of the wall. George was listening to an extendable ear, while Anna and Isabel waited excitedly for a report from him, which was due any second now . . . . 

George's eyes suddenly grew wide and he dropped the extendable ear. "Too much information," he said, trying to erase the image that had popped into his head.

His brother and Hermione . . . . _Ew._

There was laughter coming from the room and, their cover blown, they entered.

"That wasn't very nice," sad George. "What if it had been one of them listening?" He pointed to the girls, who had jumped on the bed next to their mother.

"They're part Hermione," said Fred, with a shrug.

George just shook his head. "So, Hermione. Fancy meeting you here. You come here often, do you?"

"Every Thursday," she said dryly.

"I usually only come on Fridays, but I decided to come and see an old friend."

"I missed you George."

"I missed you too. And I hope you don't mind, but I sent a letter off to the Burrow letting everyone know that you're awake and doing good."

"That's fine," replied Hermione.

They continued talking, catching up, until they were interrupted by Ron and Harry standing uncertainly in the doorway.

"Don't hover, you two," she said, falling back into a pattern of familiarity. "Come in."

Harry kissed Hermione's cheek and Ron hugged her. They both said it was good to see her, and although they had questions (Where were you? Why did you leave? Why didn't you write?) they didn't ask them.

"Mummy," said Anna, "Uncle Harry told us that you once fought a three-headed dog. Is that true?"

"There wasn't really much fighting. A lot running, though. And a lot of screaming, especially from Ron."

Ron's cheeks colored faintly. That was one thing that never changed. "I was eleven," he said, "give me a break."

"Oh, by the way," said Harry, "Mrs. Weasley said she was going to plan to a Welcome Home party for you. I mean, if you're planning on coming home . . . ."

"Yes," she said, with a nod. She felt Fred's hand tighten around her own."I'm planning on coming home."

(tbc)


	5. L

_A/N: I'm trying my hardest to get my two WIPs (this and a Ron/Luna story called "Hands") finished before the seventh book comes out. So, I haven't really read through this as much as I usually would. If you catch any mistakes, please let me know!_

_Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! I appreciate everyone of them, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

"Hello, My Name Is Fatherhood"

Chapter Five: L

The Welcome Home dinner was in five minutes, and Hermione was still standing in front of the mirror, fussing with her hair.

"It looks good," said Anna. "_Really_. It does. Dad will love it. Can we go now?"

Hermione sighed, sinking down to the bed, next to Anna. A little hand, still a little sticky from an afternoon snack, was placed on her shoulder comfortingly.

"It's okay, mum."

Hermione smiled gratefully. "I know . . . ."

"And we're not mad at you either." Her mother gave her a quizzical look, and she shrugged. "Isabel said that you were probably worried that we'd be upset about you keeping us from Dad, but we're not. We were a little upset that you let us believe he was the one who left, but then I pointed out that you never really told us that, and so now everything's ok."

"I love you," said Hermione, as she pulled Anna into a hug.

"I love you too, Mum."

"Things are going to change."

"Yeah."

Isabel appeared at the door. "Dad's here," she said, and Hermione and Anna followed her into the living room, where Fred was standing in front of the fireplace.

He wiped stray piece of soot off his shoulder, before looking up and smiling. "You look beautiful," he said, leaning in to kiss her.

"Thank you," she replied, "but you didn't have to come here. We could have just met you at the Burrow."

He shrugged. "I know, but I wanted to see you first. And possibly warn you about Mum . . . ."

She raised an eyebrow. He laughed nervously.

"Funny thing, really. You see, she seems to think that, now that we're kinda . . . back together, that we've moved in . . . with . . . each other."

She pursed her lips, although she really wasn't mad. It was something that had been on her mind for a while, but she had been unsure of how to bring the subject up, unsure if maybe that would be moving too fast. It had been nine years, after all, and maybe the love was no longer there? "Well," she began, aware of the anticipating looks of Anna and Isabel, "I suppose, you can move in here, if you'd like."

There was a shout of happiness from Anna and Isabel, as they hugged her waist. Fred gave her a kiss, his hand winding its way to the back of her neck, his other cupping her chin, his thumb brushing lazily against her cheek. Her hands rested calmly on his chest.

"We're going to be late," she said, pulling back. She unconsciously licked her lips, feeling her stomach lurch nervously. She had forgotten how Fred's lips against her skin had made her feel, and nine years later, she was reminded. She wondered briefly if any of the Weasley children had any children of their own that Anna and Isabel would get along with; that way they could spend the night, leaving Fred and Hermione alone . . . .

* * *

The Welcome Home party was in full-swing when they arrived. They were greeted with a explosion of clapping, a few whistles and some shouts. She was immediately inundated into the throng and hugged repeatedly. Ron, who had always been a little reluctant to touch her (whether out of fear or uncertainty, she never quite knew), kissed her on her cheek. 

"Hermione," he said, motioning towards–a very pregnant–Luna Lovegood standing next to him, "I'd like you to meet my wife."

Luna Weasley smiled. "It's nice to meet you Hermione, even though I already know you."

"It's nice to meet you too, Luna. When are you expecting?"

"August," said Ron proudly, as Luna said, confused, "Expecting what?" She looked to her husband and he pointed towards her belly. "The baby," he said.

"Oh."

"There's two more around here," continued Ron, looking around the room. Unable to spot them, he shrugged. "Well, they're around here somewhere."

Harry and Ginny joined them a few minutes later, and introduced their budding family: a boy and a girl, three years apart. Bill and Fleur, too, had children, as did Charlie and his wife. Remus and Tonks even had a small boy running around, changing his face from a bird to a wolf and then back to his own face (or what appeared to be his own face).

George, it seemed, was still seeing Angelina, although they didn't have any children yet. Hermione was welcomed by her old professor, Minerva McGonagall, and then given a rather strong pat on the back by Mad-Eye Moody. She reunited with some of her old school friends: Neville, Seamus, Dean, Pavarti and Padma..

And sitting on the couch, was Fred, Anna and Isabel. She smiled widely when she saw them, talking animatedly about something. They noticed her gaze, and they waved happily at her. She waved back with a small laugh.

And then she was engaged, once again, in a bit of catching-up, this time with Remus and Tonks. It seemed that, although she had only spoken to Fred about why she left, everyone already knew and was content to keep their mouth shut about it. George, she thought, must have told someone, who told someone else, who told someone else . . . .

She was glad, though, to not have to explain to everyone. It made the Welcome Home party run smoothly and she began to relax, falling back into the warmth and familiarity of the Weasley household.

She was home.

Finding herself suddenly alone and free to simply watch everyone as they moved about, she noticed that Fred and the girls were no longer sitting on the couch. Looking around, she found Fred talking to Charlie (probably about Quidditch, judging by the look on their faces) and she made her way over to them.

"Excuse me," she said politely, "Fred, have you seen the girls?"

"I think I saw them playing with Gabi," he said, referring to Bill and Fleur's oldest daughter.

"They're not with her," she said, spotting ten-year old Gabi in the corner.

"Er, well, they're around here somewhere. They'll be fine."

"Fred, do you remember when you and George were younger, and you suddenly found yourself without any parental supervision?" she said slowly, remembering a certain incident at the last Granger Family Reunion that involved Uncle Larry, a bowl of punch, and a little bit of magic they weren't supposed to know (or even be able to accomplish) yet.

"Good point," he said, scanning the room for two heads of mischievous red curls. "Ah, they're over there, with Ron and Harry."

"What are they doing?"

Anna and Isabel were listening closely to something Harry was saying, as Ron looked on with a conspirative smirk.

She knew those looks: they were up to no good.

She cautiously walked over to them, Fred following her. She placed her hands on her hips and said, "What are you four up to?"

Ron shrugged casually.

"Uncle Ron and Harry were telling us about the Tri-Wizard Tournament," said Anna.

"And then they were going to tell us about how you and dad got together," said Isabel.

"Yeah, and why you guys never got married."

"Yeah, and why you guys should get married."

"They were going to tell you all that, uh?" She looked at Ron and Harry, who tried to look innocent.

They failed miserably.

"I never said that I was going to tell them that last bit," said Harry, "only about the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

She nodded. "Oh, of course." She turned to Fred. "If you want to propose, you can ask yourself. You don't have to get Harry and Ron to get the girls to do it for you."

Fred gasped indignantly. "I never–!"

She merely raised her eyebrows.

"But, you know . . . if you'd like to . . . ."

"Yes," she said.

"Really?"

"Yes, I'll marry you."

"Wicked! Hey George! I'm moving out of the flat and I'm getting married!" called Fred across the room.

George called back, "All right, but I'm keeping the cat."

"We have a cat?"

"Yeah, you know that puffy thing that sleeps on the chair?"

"That's a cat?"

The guests laughed at Fred and George's conversation, and began to congratulate Fred and Hermione. Mrs. Weasley hugged them both tightly, but then something seemed to pop into place and she asked Fred, "I thought you said you already moved in with each other?"

Fred shrugged, giving his mother a guilty little smile, and wrapped his arm around Hermione. She leaned into him, giving him a kiss on his cheek.

"I love you," she said.

"And I love you."

_(tbc)_


	6. Y

_A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who has read and/or reviewed this story. I hope you enjoy this last chapter!_

Hello, My Name Is Fatherhood

Chapter Six: Y

Everything was moving too fast, it seemed. A week after having reunited with her ex-boyfriend (and father of her children), Hermione had found herself inviting him to him move in and then, a few hours later, they were suddenly engaged.

Her initial worry that they no longer had any type of connection dissipated the moment he kissed her, and, as a familiar tingling warmed her body, she realized that things were picking up right where they left off, nine years ago; it was the natural progression of their relationship, happening just a little bit late.

The night he moved in, he sat with Hermione, Anna and Isabel in the middle of the living room and they ate candy (most of which was sugar free).

"Too much sugar can rot your teeth," said Anna.

"And I quite like my teeth," said Isabel.

That Friday, Anna and Isabel spent the night at Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's, while Hermione and Fred went out on a date.

"We're working on another set of twins, right?" said Fred cheekily, as Hermione pushed him towards the bedroom, her hands on his chest.

Two weeks later, the wedding plans had commenced and Mrs. Weasley was naturally at on the forefront.

"We'll have to have it here, of course," she said, taking a moment to look at Hermione sitting at the kitchen table, making a list of what needed to be done. Suddenly, Mrs. Weasley's arms were around Hermione and she was saying, "I'm glad you're back, dear. We've all missed you so much. I know something happened between you and Fred, and I want you to know that no one is judging you."

Hermione returned the hug. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, call me Mum," she said. "You were _always_ like a daughter to me, Hermione."

The next day she met Harry, Ron, Ginny and Luna for lunch at The Leaky Cauldron. They talked and joked and laughed, asked how the family was doing–Luna, how's the baby doing?–How are the wedding plans coming along, Hermione?–The twins with Fred? Yes, yes they are. Your children?–At the Burrow.

"So, I know how you and Harry got together," said Hermione, motioning towards Ginny. She turned to Ron and Luna "But what about you two?"

Ron shrugged and looked down at his plate. "It just kind of happened," he mumbled.

"It was the first Christmas after you left," said Luna, straightening her posture, her eyes sparkling with the memory. "We got stuck underneath the mistletoe and George had charmed it so that we couldn't move until we kissed, which was kind of surprising because that's the sort of thing that Fred would do, but it was after you left, and he didn't really do those things after you left. I was afraid of the nargles, so I kissed him quickly and then jumped back–so don't worry, we weren't attacked by any nargles, but Ron did act a little strangely and I was worried that maybe a wrackspurt had gotten to him."

By this point, Ron's ears were red and he seemed rather interested in his pumpkin juice. Nevertheless, Hermione could spot a small smile playing on his lips. Luna started to continued.

"So, then he–"

Ron coughed, interrupting his wife. "She doesn't need to know the whole thing," he said. "'Sides, your doctor's appointment is in ten minutes, and we should probably leave . . . ."

Ron helped Luna stand, and they said their goodbys. It was after they left, when Harry noticed Hermione's brow was furrowed in thought.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She pursed her lips together. "Luna said that Fred was the one most likely to charm the mistletoe, but that he didn't, because he didn't 'do those things' after I left."

"After you left, he . . . ." began Harry, looking nervously at his wife.

"He stopped joking for a long time," said Ginny. "He stopped dating too. I don't think he's been with anyone since you. Maybe a date here or there, but it never lasted long. It was only a couple years ago that he started to cheer up . . . ." Noticing Hermione's guilty look, she added, "I don't want you to feel bad, but . . . you did completely shut us out. We didn't know where you went, and for a long time, we were sure you would come back . . . but you didn't."

"Yeah, I thought you just needed some time away from Fred or something, but . . . why did you stop writing to us?" said Harry.

Hermione sighed. "It just seemed so easy then. I was only going to leave for a few weeks. And then a few weeks turned into a month and after a month, I . . . I guess I was afraid, which is ridiculous." She laughed bitterly. "It just became easier to not tell anyone. I didn't want Fred to know and I didn't want to put you guys in that position, between me and Fred. The girls _are_ my life and I couldn't keep pretending like they didn't exist . . . ."

Harry nodded understandingly. "It's ok," he said. "I get it."

Ginny smiled lopsidedly and gave her friend a hug. "It's like you never left," she said.

* * *

On the day of the wedding, Fred found himself standing in front of a mirror, a cold ball of nerves rolling around in his stomach. He swallowed. 

"Ready?" asked George, coming up behind him. He rested him arm on Fred's shoulder. "You look nervous."

"Really? I thought I was hiding it rather well."

"You love her, she loves you," he said tiredly. "You want this. So what's wrong?"

Fred shrugged, causing George's arm to be dislodged from its resting place. "I just . . ."

George sighed. He knew what Fred was thinking: what if he screwed it up again? What if, now that she was back, the maturity he had gained in her absence disappeared? What if he wasn't what she thought he was?

It all sounded too cliche to them and neither twin wanted to say those thoughts out loud. So George just shrugged and said, "I'll keep an extra bed in the flat Angela and I will be sharing after we get married."

"You've been saying your going to marry her for five years."

"Yeah, but this time I'm going to actually ask her."

Weddings, to Fred, were painfully long and excruciatingly boring ,and he found himself passing the time by starring at Hermione's lips, waiting for the right words.

Blah, blah, blah . . . "Do you, Frederick Weasley . . . ."

_Yes, yes, yes, of course I do. Get on with it all ready._

"You may kiss the bride."

Ah, there it was! His cue. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers, as the guests began to clap. He held her tight and kissed her a few seconds longer than what was considered appropriate, and after they turned around and smiled and gave a little wave to the guests, he kissed her again.

The reception was outside. Tents had been placed around the backyard, sheltering the various tables and chairs from the sunlight. The guests made their way towards them, ready to eat, and possibly to get a bit tipsy as well.

The celebration began, and Hermione and Fred found themselves sitting next to each other, their hands entwined, and their children sitting on either side of them. Suddenly, there was a flash and their attention was directed towards Ginny, holding a camera. She smiled, and they smiled, and Fred knew that picture was going to framed and placed on the mantelpiece.

Right between the picture of Charlie's family and the picture of Ron's family, would be Fred's family.

That is, until George finally got married.

The end.


End file.
